


There is no escape

by IerDePier



Series: Torture Shorts [2]
Category: Septic egos, jacksepticeye, jse egos - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Marvin is an evil boye, Torture, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 10:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17119583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IerDePier/pseuds/IerDePier





	There is no escape

I know this is what he loves. A smile adorns his face as I flinch and squirm under the sharp edge of his knife, unable to move away or defend myself. Wincing as his fingers run through my unwashed tangled hair because I know better than to relax in his presence. I learned that the hard way.

It was different today. He was reckless, frenzied, and less disciplined or rational than usual. Less… careful. This is my chance, my one shot of escaping.

The glitch sits on top of me, pinning me down with his weight, caressing my neck with his knife. The smell of my blood is overwhelming, it’s seeping from various lacerations and wounds, scattered all over my body.

One cut is all it takes. A little too deep, his aim a little bit off.

He doesn’t expect it. His eyes follow the red trails on my skin. His knife slides over my arteria carotis communis, and I lean _into_ it. 

Blood is spouting out of the fresh gash, and the eyes that hang above mine grow big with shock as he realises what I’ve done.

“No,͏ no!͜” He screeches. “N̶ot͠ so f͞aşt, you. ͡You don’t g҉et to go͜,͠ not̨ ̛y͘et̛.͠ ͠Don’t even th̶i̡nk ab̵ou͞t ͝i҉t!” He thrashes my shoulders, clenches his hands around my neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Static fills my eyes and ears, drowning out his face and voice. An ecstatic smile creeps onto my face as my eyes slip shut. I’d laugh if I had the energy.

“You’ll ̶be͜ b̢a҉c͝k͜.” is the last thing I can make out before Death pulls me into its warm embrace.

——

The afterlife is cold and sticky. Smells like blood.

It takes a while before I can open my eyes, and my heart sinks.

I’m in my cell. I died here. _I died here_. I try to get up, but my muscles feel slow and unresponsive

“Still here I see. Very good.”

I manage to turn my head and look over to the cell door. There stands the sorcerer, an ancient-looking book clasped under his arm. His electric blue eyes bore into mine from under a cat-mask.

“You” I try to whisper, but my muscles are not quite there yet.

“I’ll give you some time to… recover.”

I try to stop him, to say something, but he’s already left. I start whimpering, I can’t help it. _There is no escape._


End file.
